


the ground far below

by yeswayappianway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Meditation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: “What are you doing?” Nicke asks.Alex is the one who answers. “Meditating,” he says simply. There could be a hint of joking there, but Nicke doesn’t believe it. Alex keeps talking. “Thought Holts might want company.”





	the ground far below

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Caps Monthly prompts for May (picture and player)
> 
> i don't think it merits warning, but there's a description of some ?messy brain feelings?
> 
> title from Between Two Lungs, by Florence + the Machine

“What are you— oh. Am I interrupting?” Nicke says, halting abruptly in the doorway. He’d been looking for Alex, but he can’t say he expected to see this.

Alex and Holts are sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the trainers’ rooms. They have the lights off (although the one fluorescent emergency light overhead ruins the effect somewhat) and two stands of candles flickering between them. When Nicke asks his question, Holts barely opens one eye, which isn’t entirely surprising. Alex, though, Alex just opens his eyes, looks up at Nicke quietly.

“Sorry for disappearing. Need something?” he asks, his characteristic exuberance seemingly softened for the moment.

Nicke’s actually a bit thrown off. “I— ah— no?” Holts raises an eyebrow without looking at him. Nicke glares a little. Just because Holts can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t make him feel better. “I wanted to talk, but it doesn’t need to be now,” he says, stiltedly. He doesn’t know how to say that he just wanted to talk without revealing more than he means to. “What are you doing?” Nicke asks, trying to move on and let his thoughts sort themselves out.

Holts actually looks up for real, but again, Alex is the one who answers. “Meditating,” he says simply. There could be a hint of joking there, but Nicke doesn’t believe it. Alex keeps talking. “Thought Holts might want company.” There’s the joke. Nicke doesn’t know why Alex wanted to meditate, what he needed to clear his head of, but he’s sure this was Alex’s idea, not Holts. It does raise a few questions, however.

“Since when do you meditate?” Nicke asks. He grimaces immediately, hearing the question come out far more accusative than he meant. Nicke wonders sometimes how other people manage to get their voices to cooperate, to not make the slightest question into an attack. He’s never actually asked anyone else, since he’d probably do it then, too.

“He’s been meditating since before I joined the team, actually,” Holts says, firmly. Alex doesn’t seem to hear the reproach in Holts’s voice, and he laughs. The noise seems bigger than usual in the quiet room.

“I learn from mama, good sports technique. Also good way to get to sleep when you’re in a strange hotel bed in a new place,” he adds, as if the idea of Alex Ovechkin being uncomfortable made sense.

Nicke wonders, not for the first time, how much about Alex he doesn’t know. This one, at least, is easy enough to rectify. “Can I join you?” he asks. This time, his voice behaves, and the question comes out just as respectfully as it had felt in his head.

Alex doesn’t hesitate, just shifts over to make space for Nicke next to him on the floor. Holts looks quietly approving. There’s only one small problem with this plan, Nicke thinks.

“I, ah, don’t actually know how to meditate. Or—I do, in theory,” he stutters. The candles flicker lightly as Nicke settles himself cross-legged, matching the others’ posture. Alex just pats his knee, his hand warm and comforting, while Holts answers.

“It’s easy enough. Don’t hold your breath or anything, just count your breaths and when you get to ten, start over. The idea is you can focus on that instead of whatever else you’re thinking about.” Holts’s voice is already calm and low, and Nicke finds himself leaning in without realizing it.

Alex adds, “You can focus on candles, too. I like just watching them.” Nicke studies his face. It’s so familiar to him after their years together, but Nicke still gets caught up in all the little details. He doesn’t think most people appreciate how calm Alex is most of the time. Energetic and driven, sure, but he doesn’t have the same sort of nervous energy that some of their teammates always seem to carry. Nicke’s always found it reassuring, and it’s even more present now. The thing is, Nicke tries very specifically and very hard to seem controlled and indifferent. He isn’t, but it also doesn’t bother him. Seeing Alex like this, though, is making him want to try.

Nicke looks at the stand of candles in front of him. There’s four on a little metal plate, one tall, and the others in various stages of melted down. The flames are wavering and bright, even in the not-really-dark of the room, and he just watches the candles for a while, tracks the movement of a drip of wax down the side of the tall candle. Holts has closed his eyes again when Nicke looks up, but Alex is studying him. He looks like he’s about to say something, and Nicke doesn’t want to ruin it.

He takes a deep, deliberate breath. _One_ , he thinks. Nicke looks back at the candles. _Two_. What is it that Alex gets out of this, exactly? _Three_. Does he need it? Is it a routine now? _Four_. Does he always meditate with Holts, or is he alone? _Five_. Does it matter? _Six_. Nicke keeps watching the candles. _Seven_. Would some of the other guys on the team benefit from this? _Eight_. He imagines Andre trying and gives up immediately. _Nine_. Maybe it’s meant to be private. _Ten_. He remembers Holts saying to start over after ten.

\-----

Some time later, Holts stands up. “You good?” he asks Alex. Alex nods, but doesn’t open his eyes from where they’ve dropped closed. Nicke feels suddenly unsure of his place here. He wouldn’t say the meditation worked, exactly, but there’s a certain level of refreshment that he feels. It fades away in his worry now—what if he shouldn’t still be here, what if he was expected to leave? He looks over at Holts, who isn’t looking back. Nicke stands up.

“Wait, Nicke,” Alex says, and Nicke looks down, frozen in the middle of standing up. He’s looking up at Nicke, as unbothered as he’s ever seen Alex. Somewhere behind them, Holts leaves, shutting the door very quietly. “What did you want?” Alex asks.

It’s very inconvenient that this is when Nicke’s brain decides to go blank, and not a few minutes ago when he was actually trying for that result.

Alex puts out the candles, blowing gently, and then looks back at Nicke. He seems to still be waiting for an answer.

“I… um. I wanted to talk to you,” Nicke mutters, wishing he could start this whole conversation over already.

Now Alex stands up, and asks, “About what? Something wrong?” His eyebrows are drawn together in a worried frown. Nicke feels like an asshole for ruining Alex’s meditation, especially for this.

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just… This is going to sounds stupid. Everything felt-wrong? In my head. Not concussion,” he hurries to add, seeing the frown get deeper. “It was nothing. I just wanted to clear my head, and I thought hearing you might help.” It sounds even worse outside of Nicke’s mind than it did when he thought it at first. It still _feels_ right, is the thing. When he’d been sitting in his car, hearing the noises of the world around him, unable to focus, he’d thought of Alex’s voice, hearing it across the ice. Nicke’s sure he could have found a hundred other ways to clear his mind, but it had seemed like such an obvious answer. He’d planned to come up with some useless question to ask when he found Alex, but now he doesn’t know how to explain any of it.

“Good thing you found us, then,” Alex says, cheerfully. “Meditating is good for that, you know,” he adds. He looks at Nicke, then. “And it’s not stupid. Nice to hear, though.” 

Nicke rolls his eyes, mostly out of habit. It’s good to hear, even though he’s not sure he believes it. It was good timing. “Maybe next time, I’ll come join you.”

Alex smiles then, not muted at all, just wide and happy. “Always better with you, Nicke.”


End file.
